


Object of Affection

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aromantic, Arospec Maedhros, Demiromantic Fingon, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Maitimo confronts Findekáno after a night that didn't go quite as either of them expected.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36
Collections: Anna's A-spectrum Anthology, Dialogue Prompts





	Object of Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [8Lottie8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/8Lottie8/gifts).



> A ficlet from a tumblr prompt: Russingon + "We need to talk about last night." (With bonus aro hearts 💚🖤 !) I'll always jump at the chance to write aro fic, and I love [demiromantic Fingon](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619972122042859520/arofili-image-description-a-3x3-moodboard-1), so this was super fun to write!!

“We need to talk about what happened last night.”

Findekáno felt panic rise up within him, and he quickly pushed it down. _Be calm,_ he told himself, _he’ll be able to tell if you’re upset, and you can’t hurt him, not_ him _—_

“It was a good party, wasn’t it?” he offered, hoping his voice didn’t sound as weak as it felt.

Maitimo looked at him, his grey eyes cloudy. “That’s not what I mean, Finno.”

_Finno. Well, at least he still calls you Finno; at least he’s still talking to you—_

Findekáno shoved aside the nattering voice in his head, forcing a smile onto his face. “Well, I was _very_ drunk,” he admitted. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” There: he had given Maitimo ample opportunity to back off, to think he really _didn’t_ know what happened, to not ruin their beautiful, hard-won friendship just because he had been stupid enough to _kiss_ him—

“You weren’t that drunk. I know what you’re like drunk.” Maitimo was serious, in a way he rarely was, and Findekáno found it harder and harder to keep his panic from overwhelming him.

How could he have _done_ this, acted on such a foolish impulse, and not stopped to think about what it would do to him, to _Maitimo_? He should have kept what was surely just a passing infatuation to himself! This wasn’t what Makalaurë’s love ballads sang of, surely; he couldn’t _actually_ be in love. He had never spared romance a second thought before, not until last year when Maitimo had come to him, afraid of losing Makalaurë’s friendship when his little brother married, and Findekáno had held him tight and promised to always be there for him, their fathers be damned, and then he lay in bed that night with Maitimo curled up next to him like he’d done so many times and something in his heart _changed_ and he had not known peace since.

_Oh,_ he thought giddily, _perhaps I_ am _in love, after all. Surely nothing else could make me feel so terribly, wonderfully, anxiously alive._

“Findekáno? Finno?” Maitimo said, and Findekáno realized that he had completely blanked out. “Are you alright?” His face was furrowed into a frown, and another wave of guilt swept over Findekáno. No, the _last_ thing he wanted was to see Maitimo worried about him.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “For—last night. I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—if you never want to speak to me again, I understand.”

“ _Finno_!” Maitimo exclaimed in horror. “Don’t say something like that! I could not bear to lose you! And—” his voice broke— “you _promised_ , Finno, that you would always be my friend. Don’t you remember?”

Findekáno nodded, even more ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I meant it, and I still do. Your friendship is the most important thing in all of Arda to me, and I was an idiot to jeopardize that for…I was an idiot. If—if you still want to be friends, please, let us forget about last night, and never speak of it again. I am horribly embarrassed.”

“Findekáno,” Maitimo said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. “Will you listen to me, instead of jumping to conclusions? I said we need to _talk_ about last night, not that we need to pretend like it never happened.”

“Oh.” Findekáno’s voice was small. This was, perhaps, the worst thing he could possibly have imagined. No, he corrected himself quickly, the worst thing would be Maitimo rejecting him utterly, friendship and all, instead of letting him down in the gentlest, elder-cousin-liest way possible.

“You—you kissed me.” Maitimo took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Findekáno flinched slightly; he wished he could see those eyes, grey like a cloudy morning, and read his feelings there. And yet he feared what he could see. He knew Maitimo did not feel the same way about him (whatever that way truly was; he still wasn’t certain), and yet… _What if,_ that voice in his head whispered. _What if, what if, what if…_ And somehow that terrified him _more_.

“Yes,” Findekáno admitted. “I did. I swear, Maitimo—”

“I asked you to _listen_ ,” Maitimo chided. “Please, let me speak, Finno.”

Findekáno clamped his mouth shut, nodding furiously. Listen, listen—he could do that. He could listen.

“I am not an expert in these matters,” Maitimo continued, “and I dare not go to Makalaurë with my questions as I would if the object of my affection was anyone other than…well, you.”

_Object of affection?_ Findekáno thought hysterically, but he forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on Maitimo’s mouth; he surely could not meet his eyes, and yet _that mouth_! he had _kissed_ that mouth, and it had just called him the _object of his affection_ , and oh Valar he was losing his thoughts again…

“—fairly certain that a kiss like that means one of two things,” Maitimo said, and was _he_ nervous, too? “Either you wish to bed me, which, given our conversations on the topic I find rather unlikely, at least at this stage, or…or you wish to _court_ me.”

Findekáno let out a muffled squeak, slapping his hands over his traitorous mouth. _Did_ he wish to court Maitimo? Not in the traditional sense, no; not in the melodramatic way Makalaurë had approached his bride, or shy Turukáno wooed Elenwë with anonymous presents, or even how Findaráto swept lovers off their feet and sent them flying back home a month later, bedded or no.

But something in him _had_ changed, and Maitimo was the center of that change. He wanted to twine his fingers with Maitimo’s, to kiss him chastely on the lips (or perhaps not so chastely, he wasn’t quite sure), to sleep close to him _every_ night, not just the ones when their fathers were too busy to notice them sneaking away, to be _Maitimo’s_ and have Maitimo be his. _That_ had not been the case a year ago, before their friendship had taken a turn to a deep and abiding love he could still scarcely fathom.

He would climb mountains for Maitimo, fight battles for him, follow him to the ends of Arda should he wish it. He would do anything for him.

He realized that he had been silent for a long time, caught up in his thoughts, in all his _wanting_. Maitimo stared at him, grey eyes soft.

“Well?” he prompted gently. “I know your thoughts are flying. I will gladly wait for you to collect them all, no matter how much my heart is bursting to know your answer to my question.”

“Question?” Findekáno blurted out, heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I…you’re right, I’m so scatterbrained, I can’t focus on a thing, not when you’re so distracting—” He bit his lip, astonished at his capability to make things _more_ awkward between them.

“Let me ask another way,” Maitimo murmured, reaching forward to pull him close, and he actually _did_ what Findekáno had dreamed of, twining their fingers together, holding him so close he could feel his heartbeat, pressing their lips together for a second time.

Findekáno couldn’t help himself. He moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arm around Maitimo’s back, pulling him down so he could kiss him better. It was clumsy, inexperienced; neither of them had ever _wanted_ to do this before, not like they wanted now, but it was _him_ , it was _Maitimo_ , and Findekáno thought his fëa could burst free in his joy.

“I am _such_ an idiot,” Findekáno whispered through his tears when they at last pulled apart. “Maitimo…”

“I love you,” Maitimo said shyly, his eyes shining silver-bright like Telperion at its most glorious. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to figure it out.”

Findekáno couldn’t help but kiss him again, and it was better this time; he hoped it would get better every time.

“I love you too,” he said, his throat tight with overwhelming emotion. “And it’s alright—we have so much time ahead of us to make up for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619975695286812672/39-russingon-if-theyre-still-open-aro).
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


End file.
